


Before Sunrise

by rokubiraijuu



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: And some crack, Blindfolds, Dick Hats, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Somnophilia, idk man there's a lot of kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokubiraijuu/pseuds/rokubiraijuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mysterious visitor comes to Chanyeol and interrupts his midday nap, touching him in ways he never imagined another person could, who can blame Chanyeol for becoming a little obsessed? Especially when his mysterious stranger won't reveal who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the tale of eros and psyche because fuck yeah greek myth. this is the first time i've written fic in a very long time, especially smut fic ( this ended up being like 3/4 smut idk how don't judge me ), so cut me some slack please ;; i should've been doing tons of homework but this ended up taking up my evening instead oh well! the world needed some more chanlu fics because rare pairings all the way yo. dom!luhan is also a glorious thing and should be promoted more often.

> I.

            Low, panting breaths filled the small space of the shower, the cold press of cracked marble against his back long forgotten, replaced by heat simmering beneath his skin, long shudders of it pooling between his legs. The hand wrapped firmly around his cock gave a slow, squeezing stroke from base to tip, drawing a broken moan as he hurriedly braced his other hand against the wall for support to offset his trembling legs. He let go of himself briefly, biting back a growl as he dragged his thumb against the tip of his flushed cock, spreading slick precome down over the damp head and smearing it along his shaft.

            Chanyeol’d been hard for a while now. He’d woken up with a telltale faint heaviness in his gut and had spent the whole day searching for an opportune moment to take care of it – which didn’t come easily, considering their living arrangement. Twelve members sharing two bathrooms didn’t exactly make for much privacy. Luckily though, this particular evening, only a handful of them were in the dorm, most of whom were taking advantage of the down time with a nap. He could hardly blame them.

            Left more ‘alone time’ for him, anyway.

            And more time meant he could take a bit longer, relish in the feeling a little more without fear of interruptions. Most of the time the other members were discreet enough to know that a closed bathroom door without the sound of running water behind it meant ‘do not disturb’, but he still would feel bad about occupying one of the bathrooms entirely to himself for too long.

            Biting down on his lip to muffle the harsh, stuttering exhale that left him, he gave his swollen cock a few more quick pumps before squeezing his eyes shut, ringing his fingers around the base and tightening to stave off the edge he’d brought himself to. Desperation cracked through him, and his hips instinctively bucked up against his hand, chasing the release just out of reach, precome leaking from his slit. “Fuck – ” He drew in another shaky breath, deep, willing himself back from the breaking point. After another few calming breaths, he resumed the slow, steady strokes, gliding his palm up from base to tip and corkscrewing his hand just slightly at the ridge just under the head, each easy pump drawing a low hiss from between his teeth.

            They said that no one knew one’s body as well as oneself, that masturbation was in many ways better than sex. Chanyeol would have agreed . . . at least until about a month ago. Until someone had decided to change his life, arguably entirely for the better. Now, as he touched himself, he couldn’t help imagining that it was the other person who had their hand – so soft and warm and skilled – wrapped around his cock, playing him as expertly, if not even more so, than he did himself. They seemed to know everything about him, and what they didn’t know, they caught on quickly.

            The path of his own hand tracing his thoughts, Chanyeol’s memory went back to the way those dexterous fingers would curl around him in a loose ring, just barely granting him the friction he needed, skin barely brushing skin in a teasing stroke up and down until he was arching, gasping, hardly able to keep himself from begging for more, his cock throbbing and twitching at each slight graze. Still they wouldn’t let up, instead switching to teasing, caressing touches, fingertips exploring the contour of every vein. Thumb and fingers would rub firmly at the underside of his cock, coaxing more from his helplessly dripping slit, while a second hand would come down, fingers curling over the top of the head to rub back and forth, smearing the sticky liquid and sending blissful shivers up his spine. Deep, raw moan after moan would peal, unabashed and uncensored, from his lips between thick pants as he gave himself wholly over to their mastery of him. For nearly half an hour he’d be lying pliant, flush with exertion, the hard curve of his full cock aching as he twisted and bucked, trying to come.

            But he never did. At least, not until the other allowed him to, not until he’d been pulled back from the edge again and again until he was nearly ready to tear his sheets apart in frustration. Only then would the pace on his cock speed up, would that hand grant him the friction he craved, the other pressing against his mouth to muffle his groans as he came so hard he couldn’t even bring himself to mind the taste of his own precome against his tongue.

            “Ah – fuck, fuck . . . ” So lost in his daydreams, Chanyeol hadn’t realized he was so close again, and hurriedly squeezed around the base to stave off release, white-hot need lashing through him as his cock twitched and bobbed in protest, spitting slickness that coated his fingers. Chest heaving with the effort of keeping himself from the edge, Chanyeol mentally berated himself for nearly slipping; those wayward thoughts of his bed partner had the ability to bring him close faster than any other fantasy had ever before.

            This time. This time, he’d let himself come; he was too desperate not to. It wasn’t the same as when the other person did it because he still retained control over this decision, but he couldn’t help it. It was the best he’d get until next time, anyway. He’d just resumed the slow pace with every intention of quickly building up to something rougher when suddenly the door swung open –

            Yells of alarm from both sides resounded against the walls as Chanyeol instinctively curled himself away from the door, turning bright red. “What the hell!”

            “Sorry, sorry!” Grappling for the doorknob with one hand, shielding his eyes with the other, Luhan furiously retreated, knocking a couple bottles off the shelf in his haste to get out. “I didn’t know – sorry!” The door shut with a resounding bang, leaving Chanyeol standing in the shower, breathing hard now more from adrenaline, one hand trying to cover himself, the other arm over his crimson face. He peered over his shoulder just to make sure he was alone again before slowly uncurling himself.

            Last he’d checked, all the other members who were in the dorm were asleep! Apparently Luhan’d gotten back without him knowing. _Damn it._ He glanced down at his cock, startled into semi-softness by the scare, and sighed. Well, the mood was sort of ruined now. He’d take care of the rest of this later after Baekhyun went to sleep or something. Anyway, he was still embarrassed – it wasn’t like this sort of thing had never happened before, but it was still awkward. And it also had something to do with the shame from glimpsing, just before he’d turned away, the reason why Luhan had ducked into the bathroom so quickly without knocking: that being his own rather sizable bulge in the front of his own pants that had Chanyeol’s own cheeks coloring.

 

> II.              

            It was a fact around the dorm that Chanyeol liked naps, especially in the afternoon when he had the time, when Baekhyun was usually out or at least not in the bedroom, moaning in his sleep and generally disturbing Chanyeol’s rest. Everyone knew this habit of his to clock out for an hour or two after dance practice, thus it didn’t make it any easier for him to narrow down exactly _who_ his mysterious bed partner was.

            The first time it’d happened, he’d been right on the cusp of sleep, sprawled on his back with the sheets tangled around his long legs, just beginning to drift off. He didn’t hear the door to his bedroom squeak open, didn’t hear the light footsteps as they slipped inside and then gently shut the door behind them, locking it with a faint click. He barely felt the mattress bow lightly under the weight of a second person sitting on its edge, only faintly stirred when cloth settled over his eyes, shutting out his vision. Somewhere in his dreams, things turned sensual as a hand cautiously crept beneath the hem of his shirt, brushing against his stomach. Fingertips drifted curiously, mapping the natural dips of his body, the curvature of muscle and bone.

            Beginning to stir a little bit but not yet awake, Chanyeol mumbled something incoherent as something pressed between his legs. He gave into it willingly, reasoning in his dream-logic that it felt good, so it must be good. The pressure against his cock began to knead, rubbing in firm circles, mixing with the little electric play of fingertips on his torso. A heaviness settled throughout his body, and he felt his cock begin to fill, heat pulsing in time with his heart beat, funneling down to his steadily growing erection. It’d been a long time since he’d felt someone else’s touch.

            But slowly, he was rising from the depths of slumber, and for a moment reality blended with dreams at the scrape of nails down his chest, prompting a low gasp from him that he suddenly realized was coming from his actual mouth, in real life. Groggily moving to prop himself on his elbows, Chanyeol blinked – why couldn’t he see? But his confusion was stemmed briefly by the gentle but firm press of a hand on his chest, easing him back down, and only then did he feel the low throb of his half-hard cock against an also very real touch. Instantly, his cheeks flushed crimson and he struggled weakly. “Wh-What the hell? What’s -- ?” His hand, halfway lifted to remove the blindfold he realized was keeping him from seeing anything, was stopped by a curl of strong fingers around his wrist. He didn’t know why, but somehow that single motion – not rough, but quietly firm – arrested his attempts, and he swallowed hard, letting whoever it was guide his hand back down to rest on the sheets. His further brief complaints were also silenced by the light press of a finger against his lips and an emphatic squeeze around his cock that had him muffling a soft cry against that finger and blood surging south again as he twitched in his pants.

            Who was this? Was it one of his band members? Throughout all this, they hadn’t said a single word, so there was no way of telling who had decided to touch him in his sleep. Still, his reluctance bled away quickly at the next firm rub of that palm against his cock, coaxing him to harden more, the other hand sliding down from his lips to the curve of his neck, toying with the collar of his tank top. A little to his surprise, Chanyeol found himself hoping whoever it was would take it off, keep touching him. It was weird to be felt up by, presumably, one of the members he was friends with, but at the same time – it was thrilling. Whoever it was, too, was evidently good at what they were doing, and Chanyeol couldn’t say he was complaining too much about getting some action, seeing as he never had any other chance to – busy life of an idol and all.

            Eventually, he just gave himself over to it, figuring that if this person was going to get him off free of charge, he could at least lie back and enjoy it. His body was evidently coming to the same conclusion, pants growing uncomfortably tight as he stiffened further against the slow rub of that hand. The other roamed over his upper body, sculpting him like a piece of artwork, a caressing, fleeting touch skimming his bare shoulders, the muscles of his arms, down his sides, so light they lit fires where they grazed. Without realizing it, he began to move against the pressure of the former hand, spreading his legs apart wider as he rolled his hips up. But as soon as he began to do so, the other switched up the rhythm, teasingly evading his bid for more, pulling a low, wanting moan from him as he curled his own hands in the sheets beneath him, starting to dampen with sweat.

            “Come on, please,” he begged softly, surprised at how husky his voice had gotten. He thought he heard the other’s breath catch at that, but it could have been just a trick of the ear. They still hadn’t said a single word. “Who are you? You’re – s-someone I know, right?” His answer was a light caress of fingers against his clothed cock, now straining against the fabric. Exhaling in frustration, he tried again. “Why don’t you want me to know who you are?”

            Curiosity demanded that he reach up, take off the blindfold, and end the mystery, but some perverse, excited side of him stopped him, wanted to keep it going, wanted the added allure that came with not knowing. Either way, he didn’t take it off, and the other didn’t answer. Maybe he was getting felt up by a ghost or something. On second thought, that was really creepy; he’d sort of prefer it to be his bandmate. Shifting against the sheets, he arched his hips up again, breathing out a huff of disappointment when the hand retracted again, denying him. “Come on . . . at least take off my pants.” Somehow, it didn’t really occur to him that he was free to do so himself; though his hands were unbound, he’d unconsciously assumed he was powerless from the moment that quietly commanding grip had curled around his wrist.

            There was no verbal response, not even a chuckle, yet Chanyeol thought he could detect a hint of amusement in the next teasing, almost thoughtful drift of fingers against his length. He was sure that he had to be leaking precome by now; the heat and heaviness gathered between his legs was too strong. He just wanted whoever it was to jerk him off and let him come already. Thankfully, at last the hand left his cock for a moment to fiddle playfully with the button of his jeans, loosening them. Even that small relief was enough to draw a deep sigh from Chanyeol’s lips as he leaned back against the pillow, chest heaving. Then his zipper was being slowly dragged down, tooth by tooth, and he couldn’t resist thrusting up once in desperation. “Hurry up – please. Come on, please.”

            After what felt like an eternity, he was kicking his pants off to the side of the bed; now that it wasn’t as trapped, he only ached worse, and had to bite his lip to keep from just reaching down and getting himself off. His hands white-knuckled tight in the blankets as the hand returned, this time just a thumb rubbing in slick, firm circles right against the head, where he assumed his precome had soaked through his boxers. A strangled, choked cry tore from him at that and he bucked up desperately, only to be reluctantly silenced by a finger at his lips again. It was physically _painful_ , how hard he had to fight the urge to take that finger into his mouth and suck, do _anything_ just so whoever it was would give him more.

            The hand at his cock cupped him, then, gently, massaging from the base up, easing the ache somewhat but bringing him ever closer to the edge with each rub. Lips parting, Chanyeol knit his brow tight, uttering soft breaths, panting into the darkness of his sightlessness, heart feeling like it was going to hammer its way out of his ribcage. Then the rhythm changed, and with two fingers and a thumb the hand began stroking him, pumping him easy but quick all along his length through his boxers. The pitch of his labored breaths rose as he arched off the bed, then sank back onto it, dipping into a moan when the grip tightened. He wanted to come – no, _needed_ to come. So, so badly. “Please, please, please – “ He hadn’t even realized he was speaking, but the soft mantra tumbled from his lips like water off a babbling brook. The coiling heat was building in his groin; he was seconds from coming; his hands fisted tighter in the sheets –

            And suddenly it was all gone. That hand left him, and he groaned desperately, bucking wildly in his need to have friction however he could, but the thin air provided no relief, and he was left to sink back to the mattress with a pained whine as his cock twitched feebly against its confines where it very prominently tented the fabric, dampening it further with drooling precome. “F-Fuck, come on. Please, don’t leave me like this – ”

            He was thankfully interrupted by the tug of deft fingers against the waistband of his boxers, snapping it against his skin. Breath catching, Chanyeol writhed slightly, arching his hips in hopes of more touches, but all he got for his endeavor was the methodical hook of fingers in the fabric, slowly tugging it down low, lower . . . finally past his cock, freeing it completely. But the other didn’t pull it down completely, letting his boxers sit around his thighs just under his exposed cock; honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to care at this point.

            An embarrassingly loud moan fell from him when that hand wrapped around him again, tight this time, giving a firm squeeze about the head that coaxed wetness to dribble down slender fingers. After a few seconds of bated breath, Chanyeol realized that hand wasn’t going to move, and he decided to help himself. Bending one leg, he bucked up, thrusting his cock through that tight ring of fingers, gasping at the how slick the slide was from his precome alone. The sound devolved into deep moans as he sped up, snapping his hips, fucking the hand desperately, chasing the re-tightening sensation in his abdomen. It didn’t take long for him to near the edge again, his harsh panting giving him away as he drew closer, the bedframe beneath him rocking slightly in the power of his thrusts as they lost rhythm, grew erratic . . .

            Mercilessly, then, the fingers suddenly slid down, tightening hard around the base of his erection, and he groaned so loud that if he’d had any sense in him at that moment he would’ve been embarrassed to think everyone in the dorm might have heard him. “No! Fuck, no, please, please, no . . . fuck . . . ” He was so hard it hurt, his cock feeling like it was going to burst from how desperately he absolutely needed to come. He had to choke down a sob as sheer, unfiltered need whipped through him, and all that came out were low whimpers. Yet, as much as he hated this, as much as he despised being denied, he knew he reveled in it. He’d done this to himself before, but with another person controlling him – and so _well_ , too – it was an entirely different experience that in no way paled to his own hand. How this mystery person could read him so well, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t deny it was the best thing he’d ever experienced.

            After a few long, torturous seconds, the hand began to move again, much to his excitement. This time, he kept no holds barred, a quiet but desperate litany of pleas tumbling from his lips as he arched and twisted. He didn’t know if he could take being stopped again; he thought he might actually unravel at the seams if he didn’t come this time. Everything ached so much; if Baekhyun himself had burst into the room Chanyeol didn’t think he could bring himself to stop, or even notice. Thankfully, his mystery person seemed to see that and kept their pace quick. Eventually, words simply gave way to incoherent moans and gasps, and as he drew closer he felt his cock swell in preparation for orgasm. The hand dropped low but didn’t tighten, moving to stroke in brisk, finishing pumps at the shaft as the other hand moved to curl fingers over his reddened tip, rubbing firmly. This constant friction at his most sensitive area proved too much, and Chanyeol bucked up, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt himself tipping over the edge; he swore, if they stopped now, he wouldn’t be able to make it.

            Thankfully, they didn’t, and he came harder than he ever had before, feeling like he was being thrown out of his own body by the sheer force of it. An almost feral cry tore from him as he spilled his come in hot, thick streaks of white over his stomach, painting his torso as he thrust unevenly through it, milked all the while by the calm, unceasing motion of those hands.

            It took a while before he came back to himself. Maybe he blacked out, maybe not. He didn’t remember. When he was aware of things again, he was breathing hard, skin tingling with aftershocks, and his mystery person was gently, almost tenderly, dragging his boxers back up over his sensitive cock and tucking him back in. Eyes heavy, Chanyeol felt like he could just drift off to sleep then, but he couldn’t. He had to know who it was. With a grunt, he propped himself up, reaching up to remove the blindfold. But like before, a hand simply closed around his wrist, stopping him.

            “Huh? Why?” They were done now. Shouldn’t he get to know who’d done him the favor ( who’d given him probably the best handjob of his entire life )? But there was no answer. Whoever it was simply lowered his arm back to the bed again, and only let go when it was clear he wouldn’t try to take the blindfold off. Only then did they rise from the bed and, in a few steps, slip quietly out of the room, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

 

> III.  

            A month later, he still didn’t know who it was. Part of him, strangely enough, didn’t really want to find out. That first time hadn’t been the last, either. He’d thought it was probably a one-time deal, but to his surprise the next week they’d slipped into his room again as he was taking his afternoon nap, and much the same thing had happened. That time, halfway through being caressed and stroked within an inch of his life, Chanyeol had tried to change it up, take things into his own hands, and had moved to try and get his mystery person to lie down with him, bowl them over onto their back so that he could touch them too and maybe return the favor, or a bit more. But before he’d even been able to accomplish that, they’d just stopped – everything –, stood up, and stepped away. He’d thought they were going to just leave him, but there was no other movement towards the door, and he knew better than to try and take off the blindfold. After some unanswered questions on his part, he’d simply resigned to laying back down placidly. Only after that did they continue what they’d been doing, albeit more cautiously.

            He couldn’t figure out why they were so paranoid about it, and why they were even doing this. It had to be one of his band members, but why were they sneaking into his room and getting him off without letting him know who it was? Was it all some sort of game? An elaborate kink? If so, why him? The theory that whoever it was might have a crush on him made it all the more frustrating not knowing their identity. And it was impossible to figure out, too. Every time, there was nothing to give them away – not a single word, not even a sound save _maybe_ a catch of breath if he was lucky, but nothing discerning. He tried to tell from their hands, but honestly he didn’t pay _that_ much attention to the finer details of his bandmates to get that in-depth about it.

            Knowing that they were taking advantage of his being asleep to come in, Chanyeol tried just not sleeping the next week during his afternoon nap. He lay there, fighting it for an hour, pretending to be asleep just so he could catch whoever it was off guard. But whether they knew he wasn’t really sleeping somehow, or whether they’d just decided not to do anything that week, his effort was in vain. Nothing happened. No one came in, and he got up an hour later tired and even more frustrated.

            Soon, it began taking over his life a little bit. He found himself staring at his bandmates during the day, trying to figure out who it could be. None of them treated him any differently as far as he could tell; they still joked around, still practiced together, still fought about things. Whoever it was had to have a great poker face. While he was sitting there trying not to get hard in the middle of an interview thinking about the firm but gentle grip on his wrist, everyone else looked perfectly normal. _Who would have a grip like that?_ It got to the point where he didn’t even realize he was staring particularly hard at Baekhyun one day until the latter looked at him strangely and jolted him from his reverie with a concerned “Chanyeol? You okay? You’ve been spacing out a lot lately.”

            “What? Uh, y-yeah! Yeah, I’m fine.” Smooth. No, it couldn’t be Baekhyun. He’d know if it was his best friend, right? Besides, Baekhyun couldn’t be that secret about anything if he tried.

            But soon, that wasn’t Chanyeol’s only problem.

 

> IV.  

            Nothing sucked worse than being walked in on by the guy you may or may not have a smidgen of a crush on. It wasn’t really anything to be ashamed of; everyone had a crush on Luhan at some point or another. Or at least a man-crush or something, if they were straight. Which Chanyeol didn’t happen to be. Luhan was just spitefully attractive, with a pretty, angelic face, perfect features, and an alluring little mouth shaped just like a small bow. His eyes practically sparkled, like the deer he was named after. Chanyeol couldn’t honestly help it if his heart skipped a beat every time the guy turned around or looked at him or spoke to him in that soft voice.

            It only got worse because, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t push the image of Luhan out of his head, that split-second picture of him standing there, telltale bulge in the front of his jeans, startled like he’d been caught in the headlights. It’d only been a second – maybe less than that. How was he getting such vivid thoughts? But there they were, creeping into the corners of his mind when he wasn’t paying attention until he suddenly realized he’d been thinking about what Luhan’s dick would look like for the last ten minutes and how Luhan would sound in bed, whether he moaned or if he screamed when he came, whether he was quiet or not. Before too long such thoughts were mingling with the ongoing mystery of his kinky bed partner and he found himself fantasizing about Luhan whispering filthy words in his ear as he jerked him off, him pinning the elder vocalist underneath him as he fucked into that slight but surprisingly muscular body and marked up pale skin with teeth and tongue.

            Of course, this was all fantasy. Never once did he consider the idea that Luhan could, in fact, be the one who’d touched him like that, who knew his body seemingly better than he did himself. Dreams like that never came true, after all.

            At least, until one afternoon where they were having a quick lunch break between merciless dance practices in the sweltering heat and somehow the topic of sex toys came up, presumably because Jongdae was talking about an ad for dildos he’d seen on the internet but it was hard for Chanyeol to say because he’d been staring at Jongin the entire time before finally coming to the conclusion that the kid was just too shy and awkward to ever contemplate doing something so risky as sneaking into another person’s bedroom and blindfolding them.

            “Chanyeol-ah, you’re oddly quiet today,” Jongdae said, grinning in his customary cheeky, ‘I’m-giving-you-so-much-shit-right-now’ way. “Don’t tell me you’re shy about the topic. Do I need to remind everyone about that time you got drunk and -- ?”

            “No one needs to hear the dick hat story again, Jongdae,” Kyungsoo cut in disapprovingly.

            This earned a very concerned look from Zitao as Chanyeol struggled to defend himself. “Dick hat?”

            “Oh, that’s right, you weren’t here for that!” Jongdae exclaimed, breaking into laughter. “Tao-ya, you know about the dick in the box joke, right? Well, this one time . . . ”

            “Can we _not_ talk about it? It was one time!” Chanyeol shifted over to put the vocalist in a head lock if he didn’t shut up, which just earned more startled laughter, but at least he didn’t continue.

            “Seriously, though,” Jongin says softly, stifling amusement, “if anyone here would know about stuff like that, it’d be Luhan-hyung. Don’t try looking through _his_ things.”

            “What?” Chanyeol’s surprise was a little too loud, causing Baekhyun to flinch. It gave Jongdae ample time to slip out of his grasp, though, and escape to Junmyeon’s side for protection as their leader simply gave Chanyeol a look of faint parental disapproval.

            In revenge, Luhan simply leaned over and playfully closed his hands around Jongin’s neck in a chokehold from which the younger equally playfully attempted to escape, but the slight smirk on his innocent face suggested Jongin hadn’t been wrong. And somehow, that single act of – albeit teasing – dominance stuck with Chanyeol, and he couldn’t help but wonder.

            Was there more to Luhan’s soft-spoken, reserved personality than he’d originally thought? He had to admit, the idea was thrilling.

            After two days, it was killing him not to know. The tiniest possibility that it could potentially be Luhan made the mystery all the more unbearable. If it wasn’t, then he could deal with it then. But if it was . . . _oh,_ if it was. On one hand, until now it had been exciting to have this secret to himself, the lack of knowledge giving fuel to his imagination. But eventually, even endless fire burned out, and even stars turned dark. He had to know.

            The next week, Chanyeol announced he was taking his nap to the uncaring choir, and as he laid down he was resolved in his determination. Eventually, his mystery person would come back again, and then he would find out, for sure, if such sinful touches could possibly originate behind such a cherubic face and innocent eyes.


End file.
